


Ice

by Hannigrammatic



Series: Spacedogs! [3]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nigel gets in a fight and slips on some ice. Basically he's a dork but Adam loves him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble that wanted out. All mistakes are mine!

There was a disgruntled expression on Adam’s face when Nigel made it into their apartment. Holed up in a city somewhere in Europe, the place was tiny and borderline filthy, but it was shelter and it was warm, and outside it was fucking freezing. Nigel stripped out of his winter clothes, right down to his pants, which he undid to let them sit low on his hips, and strode over to Adam with a smirk.

“What’s that face for, love?” he asked, knowing better than to ignore the smaller man’s obvious discomfort.

“You’re late. Almost an hour,” Adam said.

Stormy blue eyes looked up at Nigel, who blinked and laughed once. He decided to play the fool, as he usually did, not in the mood for an argument. Purring, he enfolded Adam against his chest, soothing the rigidity from his limbs with rubbing motions up Adam’s back, smirking when the younger man finally relinquished his anger to nuzzle against the dense curls on Nigel’s chest, breath stirring the hair slightly.

“You need a better watch,” Adam muttered.

“My watch works fine, Adam. It’s just fucking cold out. And I slipped on some fucking ice, okay?”

With a soft sound, Adam pulled away to study his lover’s bigger body. Nigel shivered as small fingers stroked along his stomach and sides, finally finding a bruise burgeoning under his ribs on the left side. Nigel had shrugged off the pain as he did most things, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Adam that a fist had caused the blooming bruise. An unsuccessful mugging was no reason to stir up his small lover.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered, breath ghosting over Nigel’s chest in a gentle gust.

Nigel laughed and brought a hand up to tilt Adam’s face upwards, dropped a kiss onto frowning lips, and used his other hand to sneak down to cup a pert ass. The dredges of the night’s skirmish with the two drunks had left Nigel revved with adrenaline, but the fight had lasted maybe a minute before both of the fuckers were out cold, so he’d trudged home with his body tense and ready to fight or, alternatively (and preferably), fuck.

“It’s fucking fine. Just a spot, Adam. Barely even feel the shit,” Nigel said, and then he growled and lifted the smaller man to stumble them both towards their bed.

Adam’s gasp was cut off by a devouring kiss, and the smaller man melted in Nigel’s big hands and wrapped his legs around a trim waist, small tongue peeking out to poke against his lover’s as they moved across the room. His cock twitched with pleasure at the easy way Nigel carried him, almost as if he were a ragdoll, and he pushed his lower body into the other man’s stomach insistently, worry momentarily forgotten. He’s seen Nigel injured far more brutally, had seen him bleeding and beaten to a near pulp far too many times, had nursed all of his wounds when the big man came home grunting and cursing and making a mess everywhere. But even a small bruise was enough to cause a disquiet in his guts. For now, though, he was content to open himself up for the larger man, mouth and legs and heart and soul.

They fell onto soft blankets, the bed screeching plaintively at their combined weight, and Nigel settled between Adam’s thighs as he plunged his tongue deep between kiss-red lips. He growled softly when his lover wrapped his legs back around his waist, and began to grind against the blushing, writhing form beneath him with a hissing groan. His little man was eager and willing and met his movements with his own insistent ones, small ankles crossing and drawing Nigel’s bulk even closer, the hard line of their cocks meeting in a warm press. Nigel stole each breath as he licked into Adam’s mouth, and clothes were unzipped and unbuttoned and removed without preamble. For his part, Nigel merely shoved his pants down further and gripped his weeping cock. He’d been hard before he’d walked through the fucking door.

He fucked Adam into the mattress an hour straight, and it was nearly rough as they moved in tandem, switched positions partway through so that Nigel could grasp shivering hips and enter from behind, hand buried in curly brown hair as he pressed Adam’s face into the pillow. When they both came, grunting and moaning and sighing together, Nigel finally felt his body relinquish its hold on the night’s tension. He moved his little lover onto his back and leaned over him to kiss him again, tenderly and beseechingly.

“Your nose twitches when you lie,” Adam whispered into his mouth afterwards.

“I fucking what?”

“Your nose. It twitches when you lie. You didn’t slip on ice, did you?”

“What if I didn’t? I’m fine, babe.”

“Nigel.”

Nigel growled an expletive but gave in, told Adam about the drunk men, assuring him that they weren’t dead, just probably very cold and sporting matching bumps on their skulls. Adam’s face had pulled into it’s former expression, but it eased when Nigel stroked a finger between his brows.

“Then I guess it still stands that you need a better watch,” Adam groused. 

“I guess I fucking do,” Nigel conceded.

He smirked down at his little lover; Adam didn’t need to know that he’d _also_ slipped on the ice, in addition to getting in a fight.


End file.
